Sending All My Love To You
by Songs of Yesterday
Summary: Sebastian decides to start a journal after finding out something about Kurt and Blaine that he thought was worth documenting. Rated M for language and future chapters.


**This is a fic I've been dabbling with for a while. It was inspired by ****_Struck By Lightning _****by Chris Colfer. Reviews are welcomed :P**

_To my dear Kurt_

_If you are reading this then I'm probably dead. That or you found my hiding spot. If the latter, then beware and read what's written on the first page. Just saying. But if the former, I'm sorry._

_Sorry for leaving you on this earth. Though, you are strong and smart and I know you will be fine without me. I just want to assure you that I am missing you deeply wherever I am. I'm not sure if it'll be heaven or hell. Or something else. When you join me I'll let you know…_

_When writing my will I wasn't sure what to leave you that showed how passionately I love you, so I decided to leave these journals. Maybe you can read them when you get bored. Mainly it's so you understand the thoughts that went through my mind during our time together. And the time we didn't spend together._

_So I'll leave you with the wise words of Billie Joe Armstrong from our wedding song. "So if you dare to second guess, you can rest assured that all my love's for you. My beating heart belongs to you. I walked for miles til I found you. I'm here to honour you. If I lose everything in the fire; I'm sending all my love to you."_

_Love always,_

_Sebastian xo_

* * *

_This, er… book belongs to Sebastian Smythe. If you are reading this then you better put it the fuck down before I kick you where it hurts. If I catch you, you will lose all privileges to Father's Day. That is assuming you are male… if not then I'll think of another juicy and clever way to punish you I will punch you in the ovaries while you're suffering from period cramps. _

_That is my promise to you._

Tuesday 12 February 2013

Ok, well, I'm not really sure how to start these things. I've never written anything about my day or my life, or even me, before. Nowhere in the whole universe will you find any of my thoughts written down on paper, excluding all the shit they made us write in elementary school. Writing is just not my thing but people keep telling me it's "therapeutic" and it "feels good to get things off your chest". I say 'people' but in all honesty it's just my mom. She's always kept a diary. Ever since I can remember, at 9pm on the dot, Mom has sat down at the kitchen table and written. Sometimes it's just a few sentences. Other times it's a fucking novel.

Um, I'm probably just rambling because I don't know what to write but... oh, there is one thing I need to clear up. I am a masculine male; gay, yes, but masculine all the same. Therefore, this is **NOT** a fucking diary. If anything other than a book with words it's a journal.

So I suppose that means that the appropriate beginning for one of these things is "Dear Journal". That does sound better than "Dear Book with Words". But to me "Dear Journal" is conventional and lame. So until I think of something better I'm just gonna start with "hey". So, here goes nothing.

Hey

I don't like that opening. It makes it sound like I'm addressing someone… no one is ever getting their hands on this thing. **Never**. And if you somehow found a superhuman way to find this and are currently reading it, refer back to the first page.

Anyway, I've decided to start this journal because of something that happened on Saturday. I'm not sure why but something in me wants to write this down and I've been putting it off since then. But here I am so I guess I gave in.

So, on Saturday I was at work. I should tell you that I have casual work at the Lima Bean. This is because my mom used to work there and she's good friends with the owner so she convinced him to hire me. I'm not sure he's thrilled with my work ethic because in all honesty I don't really have much. I'm only doing it to keep my parents happy. Honestly, I'd get better pay shaking my bare ass on the corner.

Anyway, I was at work, serving coffee to two moms across the counter. One was talking on the phone and the other was texting. I knew they were moms because of the screaming little rodents around their feet. Now, Saturdays are the worst to work (yet it is the shift that I end up with every weekend). Not only because I could list at least 50 things I'd rather be doing on a Saturday morning, most excluding clothing, but also because it was when the mothers came in with their kids. I mean, just leave the little fuckers at home, would ya?

At this stage I had about an hour left in my shift. Sure enough, the mothers would have all left at the same time I did and the Lima Bean would've been near silent for the rest of the day.

I was _this close_ to throwing a bucket of water at the ferals running around the shop (I realise you can't see how much 'this close' is but to give you some perspective, the bucket was in the sink and my hand was on the tap). The next customer brightened my mood, however. Not because I was happy to see him but because I quite enjoy making fun of him.

I had to smirk. Smirking is not part of the Lima Bean code of conduct toward patrons and therefore I try not to do it often; even though it's a kneejerk reaction to almost everything for me. I did say _try_. But this time I just couldn't help it and the smirk stayed firmly planted on my face the whole time he was in sight. "Hummel!" I said with fake delight.

Kurt Hummel rolled his eyes, as he usually does to me, "Smythe."

I started making his coffee, as he orders the same thing every time he comes in. And he comes in every Saturday. Seriously, get a life? _That coming from the one serving him coffee…_ shut up! "It's strange seeing you here by yourself. Where's Anderson? I haven't hit on him since history class yesterday and I'm starting to go through withdrawal." I teased, still with the smirk.

"I'm sure you'll cope." Kurt assured with a deprecating smile. That's one thing Kurt has over me. I have the good looks, the charm, the intelligence, the body, the amazing-in-bed-ness, but Kurt has the guy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship. I know it's stereotypical of me. Not liking commitment. But Blaine. Shit, I wanna get in his pants so bad. The rumours at Dalton were true. Blaine Anderson, the legend, is sex on a stick and sings like a dream. A wet dream. Just thinking about it makes my pants seem tighter… ahem.

"I dunno. My want for Blaine is soon going to turn unbearable. I might just have to force my way into his room and teach him about _The Birds and the Bees_. (Blaine's a boarder at Dalton, I, however, live at home. Mainly because we live in a fucking mansion! Dad's a very popular District Attorney, hence the cash.)

"That's called rape." Kurt declared in a bored voice as he watched me make his coffee.

I laughed loudly; probably disturbing some of the patrons. Fuck 'em. "I can't rape. It's not possible, because it's not rape when you enjoy it." I winked and Kurt screwed up his face, making a gagging sound. "Besides, Blaine will be practically begging me for it; since you're such a prude." Kurt ignored me and took his coffee, slamming $10 on the counter. Quite a tip. It surprised me that he was tipping me when I just talked to him about fucking the shit out of his boyfriend. Though, it was probably because he didn't want to listen to my so-called "bullshit". Whatever. I got money so I don't really give a shit why.

The next hour went by with me eagerly watching the door to spot that hot piece of ass come in and order a coffee from me. Maybe this was the time he'd go for my offered quickie in the bathroom. But he never came. Hummel just sat at their usual table for half an hour before dumping his empty cup in the bin and leaving without so much as a change in facial expression. I must admit. I'm disappointed Blaine didn't come. But whatever. I'll get my chance some other day.

At the end of my shift I hung up my apron and left without as much as a "see you later". I was thrilled to get out of there. My mind was filled with my ideas of what I'd be doing for the rest of the day. Or, at least, what I'd like to do.

I strolled out into the car park, whistling a tune I was making up as I went. The staff parking spots were at the far end of the car park. I'm told this is because they don't want the customers to have to walk too far. There weren't too many cars there because it was now midday and the Lima Bean doesn't serve lunch.

There was one car that caught my eye. I'd seen it around. I think it was in the parking lot at Dalton. It was Kurt's, (Kurt doesn't go to Dalton but he visits Blaine there on some weekends). Kurt left the Lima Bean about half an hour ago. Why was he still there? My curiosity peaked; which is an annoying phrase to write because my curiosity is unfortunate. It makes it seem like I care.

I went to Kurt's car and stood by the driver's side where I could see Kurt sitting, staring blankly ahead with his hands on the steering wheel. The car wasn't on. I tapped on the window and Kurt visibly jumped. He turned to look at me with a look of wonder which very quickly turned into a scowl. He put the window down all the same.

"What's the matter, Hummel? Forgot how to drive?" I smirked. He ignored me. "You just turn the key." I said slowly as if I were explaining it to a small child.

"Fuck off, Sebastian." He said. His voice was calm but it was strained, as if he was about to burst into tears.

"Sorry, I just don't want you sitting here all day, keeping poor Blainey waiting just 'cause you can't drive." And the tears fell like a waterfall. Okay, so there was one tear but I'm not a fan of crying and it kinda freaked me out a little. I stood there awkwardly as Kurt furiously wiped his face, turned away from me.

What are you supposed to do in a situation like that? I just made the kid cry. Well, not a kid. He's the same age as me. But I made him cry. And I had this strange feeling in my abdomen. I felt bad about it! I felt bad about making Kurt Hummel cry. I don't even know how I made him cry. I couldn't ask him what was wrong. That's just not how I roll. I was just about to walk away and let him cry by himself when Kurt spoke.

He cleared his throat and still not looking at me said, "We broke up."

Did I hear him right? "Come again?" I said.

Kurt groaned and turned to look at me. He had tear stains on his cheeks and fresh tears were threatening to spill over from his eyes. "We broke up, Sebastian. Congratulations." He spat.

Then he made me feel guilt. A feeling I was not familiar with. I have to admit, I was pleased as well. It was confusing. I wasn't sure whether to pat Kurt on the back and tell him everything would be alright or to start dancing and make my way to Blaine so I could fulfil my long-awaited fuck.

I did a bit of both. "Sorry, dude." I said and headed for my car, walking a bit faster than necessary. What? I hate emotion! I could feel Kurt rolling his eyes at me.

I waited til I was in the car to dance though, out of respect. Kurt was crying enough. I left that parking lot without a glance in Kurt's direction.

I know what you're thinking. Sebastian, did you go and see Blaine? Did you bust open the door and strip him down to nothing? Did you fuck him til you both passed out? Tell me! Tell me!

Well, my dear children, I did not go to Blaine and fuck the shit out of him. I didn't even speak to Blaine that day. I suppose I could've called him if I really wanted to but I didn't. I just sat at home and had a _Supernatural _marathon. Quite a life I live!


End file.
